


Through Our Eyes

by Soledad Acacia Isidro (Putrefying_Plant_Life)



Category: Homestuck, Original Work
Genre: Binded, Blind Characters, Cactus stop having and adopting children immediately, Chains, Cisgender Characters, Flash Fiction, Gang Violence, I didn't kill anyone I swear, Implied Drugs, Magic Users, Maybe more than Ocassional, Occasional Spanish, One-sided violence, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Story - Freeform, Other, Plant Magic, Science, Short Stories, Slight Transphobia, Supernatural creatures/beings, Torture, Unedited normally, death mentioned, ftm characters, incubus, nonbinary characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-10 23:55:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11702493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Putrefying_Plant_Life/pseuds/Soledad%20Acacia%20Isidro
Summary: Original stories, characters, and plots. May occasionally upload fan fiction.





	1. Character List

Original characters to appear:  
\- Angel Sastre  
\- Adelita Sastre  
\- Trinidad Zoldak  
\- Juarez Cuevas  
\- God Damn It Luz

 

\- Varian Faber  
\- Penrose

\- Gotzone Ochoa  
\- Huit Ochoa  
\- Ascension Ochoa  
\- Daniel Ochoa

\- Cactus Alarie  
\- Cian Alarie  
\- Siv Alarie  
\- Poet Alarie  
\- Genesis Alarie  
\- Lambert Alarie  
\- Sage Alarie  
\- Cyra Alarie  
\- Ingram Alarie  
\- Nour and Kai Alarie  
\- Ellicott

More to add later.


	2. Song of the Ancestor Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adelita's past visits while she mourns a close friend's death.

Walls were torn down, crumbling upon itself while smoke flew into the atmosphere. In its ruins, laid two bodies on-top of one another. Though, they were not alone in littering the once-thriving, living sleeper cell base. Only one of them moved. They hollered profanities towards the sky, as if divine intervention would appear. The figure’s hair burned from fire, face smudged with ashes and blood, and tears cutting through the debris. 

 

“Levanate, Ercilia, no hay razón para llorar sobre un cadaver (Get up, Ercilia, there's no reason to cry over a cadaver),” a voice whispered was a whisper, it was feminine yet low and threatening.

The living refused to move, deciding to lay there covering the other; as if it would protect them now. She held their head close to her chest, desperate for the beating of her heart to wake the dead. Yet it was useless, their body was stiff, cold. It began the voyage towards decay, with it a piece of herself. Juarez’s body was scarred, burnt almost unrecognisable; yet Adelita knew. 

 

She ignored the spirit standing before her in a red dress, primed hair, and older make-up. The woman was taller with a large build, her eyes were stunning. Her dark eyes hardened by war, internally and externally. This woman was Adelita’s template. The being she strived to become a replica of. During her life, the woman hadn’t lived a lavish life. 

Rather she morphed a scene from dysfunctional crime to a syndicate, feared by men, women, and those in-between. She ran no brothel. A generous woman, as she was, would give sex workers a better life. Giving them money, gifts, and ultimately, if they chose, a job working beneath her. Whether it be a guard, bookkeeper, spy, it didn’t matter. 

The curled hair missed no beat, it sat at attention while she bore holes into Adelita’s back. Her sneer changed the temperature of the room. The heat flattened under her influence. The woman barked harshly, “ You are the fruit of our labor. The future I laid out for you and your father. A contract. A vision. There is no time to mourn the dead.” 

“I am no contract. I hold them, better than you could,” Adelita croaked, refusing eye contact. “They deserved none of this.” 

The woman scoffed, “ Collateral damage. Nothing more, nothing less. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my collection of flash fics, short stories, and original characters. Please don't steal them or their stories. I may start commissions sooner or later.


	3. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning to a long partnership.

        Another disappointed sigh left Juarez’s lips; they took a small drag from the minute cigarette. Stars aligned within the gloss over their eyes, almost creating new constellations. The sky was fittingly scarce, unironically echoing a lonely beat resonating.  Viciously it collided with its shielding ribs, it ached, but not from aerobics. The pain was dull, life-wrenching, yet cold; Juarez peered to the sky once again, thinking of Trinidad.

                Why do I subject myself to relationship?  Juarez thought, never breaking eye-contact with the moon. I’d rather date the Moon than humans. He shouldn’t have hurt. Not like this. What the fuck is going on with me?

                Their footsteps carried well into the empty parking garage, boot heels clinking lovingly against the pavement. Echoes went on for miles until the pocketed phone rang. It was Unknown, but Juarez was aware of the caller. Groaning annoyed, with venom they answered, “What do you want, Adel?” They looked around the corners, ensuring no flies were eavesdropping or he showed up. After repeating the question, the annoyed stargazer backed into a corner to remain unseen.

                “Adelita, what the hell do you want?” Juarez spat again, with a deeper tone.

                A relieved sigh settled the silence, yet a thick accent radiated from the speaker. It was masculine, rough, yet gentle and calming when responding, “Wrong Sastre, kid. Where are you? Garbi is worried about you. She says you haven’t called or replied to texts.”

                Juarez calmed before responding, “Jefe, I’m…just settling personal business. There’s a life beyond you two, and our side job.”

                Their Jefe chuckled, one that felt straight from his belly. “So you went to see that man again, eh? Do you want him to disappear?”

                “No,” they snapped, “I don’t want him to disappear. We need him, if not this entire organization goes to shit, Angel.”

Angel scoffed, in a mockingly offended tone, “I would be offended, but my last fuck was wasted as you and Gabri were beaten. Hell of a beating you both took, earned a lot of respect…..Never Do It Again.” He stopped, silence viberated through the phone ends. It made both of their minds churn. Angel spoke up, “Perico, what’s wrong?”

                Perico took in their surroundings again while sinking to their knees. The ache was dry ice in their chest now.  Unsurprisingly, their problem was difficult to source; there were several factors involved, all including him. Not Angel, no, but Trinity as Juarez called him. If there was anything to blame, it would be him. With the realization materializing, they whispered, “Him. He’s what’s wrong.”

                “What did he do to you?” Angel asked, the light tone was replaced by his fatherly instincts. “If he hurt you in any way.”

        Juarez sighed again, “If anything, I deserve that threat. He was crying when I left his apartment. Something’s wrong here.”

        Angel, unbeknownst to Juarez, smirked, “Wrong?”

        “I did the same thing I’ve always done, Jefe. We screwed, shared a few laughs, and separated. He started crying when I broke it off. That’s not fucking normal.”

        “Did you,” Angel stopped, “Did you ever think…that maybe, Trinidad actually liked you?”

        A new pair of steps bellowed in the garage, making their way in Juarez’s direction. They quickly scuttled off to another end, breathing heavily from running. Sliding their back against bricks, yet again the stargazer peered into the sky. Asking for a direct answer from God or any God up there; maybe Jesus would bring them that pony after all. Anything would satisfy the guilt consuming their flesh currently. Raking a hand through the rat’s nest sitting heavenly on their head, Juarez finally responded to Angel.

        “No.”

        “Maybe, just maybe, take that into account next time you choose a fuck-buddy,” Angel seemed to demand. “You should know better by now.”

        Juarez slammed the phone onto the ground. They screamed into the receiver, “BUT THAT’S NOT THE PROBLEM, ANGEL.”

        “Then what is the problem?”

        A true luminary they were, sitting in moonlit tears, a forced smile on their face. A site few every see or will ever uncover about them. Nonetheless, their emerald hair appeared lighter than usual in its attempt to brighten the situation. With a weak, guppy-like sob, Juarez told Angel, “I feel guilty. Not him. I. Feel. Guilty.  I’m not sure why I do. This wasn’t what I wanted to happen.”

        “Then it’s the other way around, you actually liked this guy. You can’t keep jumping from bed-to-bed. Gabri and I have always believed, in some way, a person would come along. And they wouldn’t make you whole. No, they’d help you grow past your juvenile benefits stage…not saying she’s grown out of it either, but, you never seemed the type to fall for a normal person. There’s something about Trinidad that meshes well with you.”

        “God dammit, Angel, you were supposed to make me feel better. Not guilt me into loving a pinhead,” Juarez croaked.

        “He’s a pinhead if you’re an idiot. Which we’re aware you are not,” Angel paused to sigh again, it was non-irritated related. It sounded more of a supportive tone. “Maybe you should give into the ache. If it doesn’t work out, then at least you attempted.”

        They put the phone on the ground, and sobbed quietly. It was a relief, yet the sting still ever present.  Blood slightly seeped from their nape as nails scraped and carved away at the flesh. “Maybe you should give into the ache…” Juarez repeated, glossed eyes staring at the moon for answers. “What if there’s a consequence to it? What if I fuck it up? He’s important to the organization. I…I can’t just jeopardize that for a buddy.”

        Before they could holler into the night, Angel chirped out of the phone, “Perico, if you don’t try, you’ll never know. Just give him a chance. If he cried for you, as the others didn’t, then why not attempt?”

        A sneer plastered Juarez’s celestial-lit olive skin as they rose to their feet. Without hesitation, they stomped onto the phone. Their heel collided with the screen’s surface, bits and pieces thrown into the window. Juarez kicked the phone to a corner, before looking at their watch.

        “Fucking Angel, never has my back on shit,” Juarez half-heartedly mumbled while trudging into the building.

        Only a handful of people were wandering around at 1 a.m. in the halls. Juarez bore into the souls of brave, ignorant people that dared to view their weaken state. Attempting to keep their previous brave façade, they wiped away tears. Fixing their hair and trying to be presentable while stumbling onto his floor. Turning the corner, Juarez saw a familiar man leaving his apartment. His silver medallion blinded Juarez momentarily, though the jellyfish carving was stunning as usual.

        Its owner was a man with thick coarse hair hanging off his shoulders, dark skin, and about 6’5” in height. He was locking the door while Juarez surveyed how to approach the situation. Trinidad turned around, after pocketing his keys, and stared at the disheveled person in front of him. Just an hour before, his appearance paired theirs perfectly.

        Despite his instincts to check on them, Trinidad scrutinized the image before him. The one that left his apartment was put together. Their jacket was covered in dust, eyes were red yet not bloodshot, and hair was wrecked as if a weed whacker had settled for the day. He inhaled sharply before asking, “What do you want?”

        Juarez fixture their posture intended on making direct eye contact, “As cheesy as it sounds, you. I want you, but not in a sexual way.”

        Trinidad scoffed, running a hand over his head. “Last I checked, the only thing between us was a quickie. That’s what you told me, right?”

        Swallowing their pride, Juarez glared at him, “Yes, I said that to distance myself. I’ve never stayed in relationships like this for more than t-“

        The taller man sighed and interrupted, “for more than 2 months. We’ve been together for 6 overall and I still haven’t disappeared. So what exactly do you want from me?”

        There was a sharp pain from his statement, but in a refusal to back-down, Juarez responded again, “You. I want this to be more than a friends-with-benefits deal.” They walked closer to Trinidad, taking off a ring from their right hand. “I swear to you, on this ring, that I want this to be more than a fuck buddy thing.”

        Trinidad tilted his head, staring down at the ring. “And this ring is supposed to represent that?”

        “Something like that,” Juarez inhaled, “It’ll be a reminder that I’m committed to this relationship…if you’ll have me, after my bullshit.”

        Without a word spoken, the medallion slipped off of Trinidad’s neck and slide onto Juarez’s. “Alright, then I’ll give you this to remind that I’m as committed as you are.”

        Trinidad pulled Juarez into a quick hug as they slide the small ring onto his pinky. With a little smirk, the luminary chirped at him, “Ham hands. It doesn’t fit.”

        He laughed, taking their hand into his own. “You’re one to talk, Flavor Flav. We still have a meeting to attend. We’ll figure it out later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I basically spammed Blue by Marina and the Diamonds for 3 hours trying to write 3 pages.


	4. 2217

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Incomplete work, might continue in the future.

It was solemn and damp; fortunately the stone allowed a clicking sound every time my walking stick bounced. The two presences following were cold and were hesitant about accompanying me. I appreciated the sentiment of venturing with the blind person. They’re silent tonight, odd but understandable considering our circumstances.

The one to my left tapped my shoulder, “Hic sumus. (We’re here)”  

“Gratias tibi, Andris, (thank you)” I replied, opening the door.

“Sentit horribilis, (feels dreadful)” he inquired. Andris walked ahead trying to clear a path; ultimately causing an argument for some petty reason. The language barrier between the participants made it, despite the circumstances, humorous. It wasn’t necessarily a barrier, more of a rickety bridge on the other’s behalf.

The last comments between them were “futue te ipsi” and “ede faecam,” basically saying to fuck off before I intervened. “About damn time,” the shit talker spat,” We’ve been waiting an hour.”

I snorted, “An hour? I told you I’d be here in 30 minutes. Has he said anything?” He hissed while hearing the ‘click’ of the stick, “No, the asshole isn’t saying shit. That’s my foot, by the way.”

“No wonder it’s squishy,” he didn’t find it amusing. Swatting the stick in my hand, the man glared while I beamed. Everyone else in the room seemed distant until a woman slammed the door open. Not enthusiastic, but at least the atmosphere was slightly more lively. Andris stepped behind me, staring in her direction.

“Vitis, why the hell are you here?” she asked and turned to the man, “I thought it was just going to be us and the bastard, Elia.”

Elia’s demeanor was awkward while responding. “The bastard still wasn’t talking. I was going to see if there was anything Vitis could do.” The ‘bastard’ gave an incoherent comment in his seat. He was aware what Elia and Daria were planning, yet attempted a stoic approach. Andris tugged a sleeve, motioning towards our left where the ‘Bastard’ was held.

They argued on their own for a moment; taking advantage I walked over, quietly clicking, to him. When reaching him, I stopped at the chair leg before asking, “Behind or attached?”

He mumbled, “Behind the chair,” rattling the chain leading me to his hand. I kneeled, with the scythe lying nearby, and crawled towards the chair’s center. My left hand feeling around the edges of the harsh, splintering planks; it met metal before warmth before gripping. “Is this okay, or would you prefer me to leave? Even if it means nothing, I’m here,” I muttered.

“Vitis, get away from there,” Elia yelled.

“I’m fine,” I retorted, my back still facing him. “just thought he could use a grounding element to prevent him from panicking.”

Elia grumbled disagreeing with my sympathy, almost challenging it. Though waiting 15 minutes to see if the blind man would move is unprecedented…for anyone but Elia. He finally saw that apparently I wasn’t going to move, a thought popped in to either leave me there or move me.

With the latter being his least favoured prompt, Elia beckoned Andris, “loqui ad eum.” He laughed, uttering  “No,”  much to Elia’s displeasure.

Daria walked over, patted my shoulder before whispering, “Get up, he’s going to be pissed and you shouldn’t be in here when this happens.”

I smiled back at her, “He can be as pissed as he wants. I’m not moving, that’s final, and I have a right to be here. If he hadn’t come to see me, then you all would be barren for information and unfortunate practice. Now do what you have to and I’ll leave soon after.”

Although she loathed the poor ‘bastard,’ Daria smiled then stood next to Elia. He hoped for good news, but was greeted by the usual sarcasm…then practically screamed across the room, “FINE. HAVE IT YOUR WAY.”

The ‘bastard’ was named Cynbel, currently being interrogated for the possibility of blackmail. He refuses to speak, but we’re unsure as to why.


	5. [Discontinued] Hunter's Association

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old work about Jack the Ripper and co.

It was dark in the East End of Whitechapel, everywhere you look there was women and men. Of course, you must know of what I mean when I speak of them. The untrained eyes of a civilian, they were just women trying to make money for themselves. Yet to a hunter, I could easily see these were incubi; the familiars of a vampire named Ambrose Sinnet. Sinnet would send them out to collect life energy and the souls of unsuspecting men. They wondered unnoticed by the blessed ignorance of Britain’s tired eyes.

I was chosen by the organization to hunt and kill the incubi. I was to elude Scotland Yard, and yet I had never thought I would become Britain’s infamous serial killer. It was a sacrifice of myself and the familiars of Sinnet that would help bring peace after this 'reign of terror.' Sinnet has been around for as long as the Hall of Records can record. He was the one of the first vampires and was the only to kill the unsuspecting humans. 

Many humans know of the tale of a vampire; that they consume human blood, install the Lycans to bend to their will, and eternal life. While some are immortal, most of what human folklore speaks of is made out of fear. Mortals have always created myths and legends to explain the unexplainable. They had told their myths to the point that they believed it were to be true and the truth was false. They would persecute the innocent they believed to be abnormal then bring into power the creatures they feared the most.

As I walked down Whitechapel Road with my partner, Mordecai Forge, we were approached by two prostitutes. One, I know by the name of "Pearly Poll," she is our eyes and ears on the streets, but as the other was the incubi named Martha Tabram. Martha looked to be in her thirties, and as the two of them stood less than a foot away, Martha's eyes flashed a dark sapphire blue. I smirked and looked at Mordecai, "I say we should take these lovely ladies out for drinks. What do you say, Mordo?" 

Mordecai nodded in agreement; he was ’mute’ you might say. This man that stood next to me was a not moral; he is a Lycan, a rare type of werewolf. He didn’t show his lycanthrope features, his eyes were dark blue and pale. Most lycanthropes have green eyes and fair skin, though all have black hair. They never showed fear but they could see through any disguise and mimic any voice that they had heard.

Mordecai lead Pearly Poll to the tavern and left me alone with Martha. Martha grinned at me with her sharpened teeth; her eyes flashed between Sapphire to an ivory black. “I should have seen this coming. I knew I smelled a wretched stench of a Hunter. To what do I owe the honor of the occasion? Have you decided to join my master?”

“I wouldn’t join you even if I was on the verge of death. I’ll be damned if I like Ambrose steal my soul and turn me into a puppet like you.” I replied.

At that moment, her eyes turned solid black as she lashed out at me. I ducked under her long clawed nails and managed to knock her off her feet. She glared at me with her empty eyes and teeth clenched. I dragged her into an alley and demanded to where Ambrose was. She refused and spitted at me. She had feasted already on another man; her teeth were yellow and scarlet, with still some of the scarlet dripping down her teeth. She crackled like a witch and spoke in a tongue that I could not comprehend.

She was not the first of Ambrose’s familiars I had met. There were two more…incidents several days before. They refused and put up a fight that Mordecai had won. Now it’s just me and this wench, no Lycan to come to my rescue, and no association to back me up. I gripped her throat tighter and held her in place. “ I’m only going to say this once more, lass. Where is Sinnet?”

“You’ll have to do an autopsy to figure that out, hunter.”


	6. the Alice Killings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surrounding the song Alice Human Sacrifice

A dream may be a dream to you, but it is a reality to me.

From the beginning to the end, a dream will always be a reality. From your world to mine, there is nothing more than a rather thin sheet of sanity. When the sheet thins and washes away; there will be a new game to be played. A game of life and death, of chance and experience, there is always one who stands while others fall.” Alice, “we call, “There is a game we wish for you to play. It is a new game called Watch Your Life Drift Away.”

Your sister has passed and you still stand, there is nothing grander than chance. “Alice, my dear,” our Queen calls out, “There is a story to be told to mortals; a story of the people of Wonderland. Our book lies within your grasp. Please help us, for you are our last.” May the spades be with you, the diamond on your sleeve, the clover for luck and a heart to bleed; we are always with you, even as you leave.

Lita woke up, startled and out of breathe. Sitting up from her bed with a feeling of dread, she looked around her silent room.  What was I dreaming? She thought silently, but aloud. The walls beamed from the light that began to pour into the room. Her alarm sounded off on cue; with birds to accompany it in the morning dew.   All Lita could think, despite the bright sunny morning, was about her dream last night; he dream that has reoccurred every night now for several months.

Red. All her memory was red and a spade, it covered her dream with gruesome images of those innocent and sinned. Their organs on display, dripping and leaky, in a grand hall of a museum or castle; the one that struck the biggest nerve was a body that was dissected and picked apart. Piece by piece, the small body had its heart ripped out, one for the ace, and one for the spade. Next, the head decapitated for its tissues, ligaments and eventually, its brain.

Shaking her head, it was just a dream. It was nothing more than a dream. “Hey, Lita, are you going to work today? Or do you need me to check you in for a sick day again?” a voice rang in the distance.

She shook her head while realizing her roommate had been talking to her. “Lita! Do you need me to call you in sick?” Casey called out again.

I can’t miss another day, I may be a lawyer but with the new associate in house. I won’t have the same leisure as I do with Carter. Casey appeared in the doorway, the anger scripted like a screenplay but with eyes glaring cold shiny daggers. “Are you even listening to me? I swear to god, Lita, if you keep doing this I’m just going to move out.”  Lita looked up from her bed. Only a small apologetic smile on her features, “I’m sorry, Casey. I had that dream again.”

His features soften as he approached his disturbed friend. Sighing, “You can’t keep letting that dream get to you. If you do, it’ll steal your life and eat away at you. Do you really want that? Right after you just got back on track with your life.”  She shook her head ‘no,’ then proceeded to the bathroom, “Hell no, I still have to make partner at the firm.”

Without a second thought or sentence, she rushed into the bathroom. Casey walked back out the door. “I swear, she needs to see a therapist sometimes.” His footsteps rang throughout the small apartment; it was average, with two rooms, a kitchen, bathroom and small living space. Hardly anything on the walls besides some paintings they had bought from a local art show, and

 

 

 

Prologue

 

Nothing but a dimly lit flame illuminated a dingy room. The wall was covered in mold, stale blood,

 

 

 

Deep within the catacombs of Hearts Castle, a collection of decapitated heads placed upon the walls gave a sickening fetor throughout the dungeons and even into the Queen’s quarters.  The screams of the victims being tortured before the guillotine was music to the Queen…and an unknown entity. Each scream was a note with such preciseness and execution; it was almost like there was sheet music for each.. Then again who was to say, it wasn’t?

 

This hellish castle resides in a location that you have dubbed Wonderland. I say ‘dubbed’ since this location, or should I say dream, has no actual name. It is known for its ‘Alice’ and her wayward adventures; yet these accusations are faux. She never returned home…actually Alice Lindell is our Queen. But, that’s not the point. The point is that Its alive.  As you and I are, it has needs, desires…hatred. Though above all else it requires to be feed, but it doesn’t eat things such as carrots or berries. It consumes souls of the required roles such as the ‘Mad Hatter’, ‘Tweedle Dee’ and ‘Dum’, and so on.  These were a source of 5 main roles that it feed off their soul and life energy. In your world, they were insane, or even dead, but in ours everything they could’ve ‘wanted’ came true.

 

All but one thing….to be free.

 

As in every story made of Wonderland, there too is a rabbit here. But instead of the term ‘White Rabbit,’ he is known as the Joker. Unlike most of the others, he was aware of Wonderland and its consciousness not only that, but he can travel out of here by Its whim.

 

Wonderland had eyes within it as well named the Joker or, the White Rabbit. Behind its ba

 

What might this land be? It believes you have dubbed it Wonderland. The name suits like a glove. For humans wonder this land freely. Each new arrival brings with them a new dream. Each dream becomes part of Wonderland, creating a new land with new roles to be played. These roles required energy from the land to sustain. The only way possible to control the drain of energy was to create five major roles. They were selected humans whose souls were strong enough to last over hundreds of years, sometimes even a thousand.

 

 The roles were the following: The Spade, a mighty warrior soul regardless of size. The Diamond, a poet of sorts with ridiculous rhymes that were absolute nonsense yet with the right tune made the most absurd rhyme a stroke of genius. The Club, the ruler of the land of which the Castle of Hearts lays upon. She ruled with no mercy and had an occasional head or two lying about.  The Heart, the role of ‘killing two birds with one stone’; this role possessed two souls wither of siblings or close friends. They were to become twins that the travelers would be greeted by once entering Wonderland. And lastly, the Joker…this role was much different than the others.

 

The Joker wasn’t a simple role to succeed. It wasn’t just being a continuous character all hours of each day. Joker was the only character who knew Wonderland was alive. This role was to serve the soul of Wonderland and bring to it new roles to replace the others. He served as an ambassador to the human world, for he was allowed to leave and come back. Not at will, but when necessary. Each wields a Looking Glass that serves as their guides to new souls. It also served as a jar of hearts to which souls where held captive until returning.

 

Wonderland keeps its Jokers for as long as the horizon will take them. Yet, there’s always that dreaded day when it must release the current Joker. Today of which, is that day. The looking glass laid on the floor as the land spoke to its wielder. Being with his Master for over a millennium as aged him a great deal; along with him, the Looking Glass looks antique-like. This Joker was given the name Abel by his master. Seeing is that Wonderland predicted his death and the length of his services. It granted him the name for his determination and hard work to come.

 

It dreaded the day that Abel would leave. Abel being the longest Joker to record, it had grown an attachment to him. The conversation between master and servant was not one they brought joy as usual. It reeked with despair and gloom. As the times of collection before, a stack of cards and the Looking Glass laid before Abel. He stared down at the new addition and the oddness of his own Looking Glass. He knew nothing of the dagger that lay before him, but his Looking Glass, it appeared different.

 

Abel possessed a pocket watch as a Looking Glass. He could read the time of day just by the ticking, yet it was out of sync. The appearance was split into fives, the numbers replaced by symbols of the Cards of Roles. No longer could he read two neither three nor eleven forty-two.  Yet he could still read the time according to the clock. It was a quarter past Joker, and a minute before Spade, just before Diamond and was the struck of Club.

 

The aged Abel waited for his master to speak. You have served me well, Abel, but now it is time for the Looking Glass to be passed down.

 

“As you wish, my Lord….If I may ask, how is I to pass on the Looking Glass?” he replied.

 

First, you must collect the souls of the Roles. Once they are recovered, the Looking Glass will determine your successor.

 

He nodded. Yet, his master hadn’t answered his question. Abel went on to ask again, “Yes, but will he accept the role?”

 

The Looking Glass will determine your successor.

 

“But Master, how am I to pass on the role?” he questioned.

 

Wonderland stayed silent as the feeling of despair for the lost of its servant. It replied after an eternity to the Rabbit. You must find the chosen successor and create a blood bond. Only then will you be released and he will replace your role.

 

In his mind, Abel saw it as a simple task. Then it dawned upon him. What if the successor did not wish to take the role? He raised his head to ask, but Wonderland had answered before he could ask. His eyes widened and shook his head. He refused to acknowledge the task that his Master laid upon him.

 

You must create a blood bond, no matter what the means. If it means you both shall die in the process as long as the blood connects and Looking Glass accepts it. The chosen successor will become the new Joker.

 

Picking up the cards, dagger and his Looking Glass, Abel could feel his soul being sucked out of him. “As you wish,” were his last words as he left the catacombs. As he exited Hearts Castle, a deifying scream greeted him to his journey ahead of him. The Card guards surrounded the Queen. Each of them humming a sickening tune, “The last, the last of the wicked, the last of the brutality, Ends with you,” 

 

Abel walked passed her Majesty and the guards. He watched emotionlessly as they impaled her continuously. The snow white tiles became stained by the scarlet paint of her blood and the halls echoing the screams of her death; was this to be the end of the brutal rule? Not in the least, for they might not have known it, but a new Queen would be crowned soon enough.

 

The heavy-hearted rabbit soon found himself by the meadows of the Infinite Tea Party. The blue gate was splattered and polka-dotted with red. “What was is the tea today, Hare!” was heard from the distance. “Why a lovely scarlet tea, if I do say myself.” Scarlet he says…the poor Hatter never saw it coming…The rabbit hole isn’t that much farther. Just past the forest.

 

The wounding trail leads to the forest of talking flowers. They wept as the loud creaking from ropes rang from the trees. One flower looked up at the two figures that swung back and forth-Tweedle Dee and Dum. Their eyes turned into their skulls, blood spilled at the corner of their lips; the rabbit stared up at them. His face fell to a frown, ‘Such a pity. They were only children…at least they were 125 years ago.”

 

As much it pained him, he continued to his destination that was just beyond the forest edge. One flower gently gripped his boot while begging him to bring the twins down. He shook his head then continued on his way. The rabbit hole twice as small as when he first arrived laid in front of boots; he thought to himself. ‘This is good-bye, Wonderland.’

 

Taking out the small ‘Drink Me’ bottle, the grim surrounding laid a brightly purple colour flower by the rabbit hole.  Upon it was a small grey rose. Abel took the rose, taking a small whiff. ‘Scentless.’ It was as alive as a normal rose would be, but it had no scent. Not even a hint of the sweet scent. Sleep

 

 

 

 what a horrid fate for children…hopefully, the next to come will have a better way of passing on.

 

 

When he reached the outside of Hearts Castle, screams rung in his ears as the Queen begged for Mercy. No time was to be wasted as the Looking Glass became less and less readable.

 

Passing the Infinite Tea Party, there was blood being poured instead of tea. The March Hare taking the lead. As he passed through the Meadow of Talking Flowers, he witnessed the Twins being served as dinner. Everywhere there was death and dismay to the four roles. He shook it off and continued until he reached the exit. “Down the rabbit hole, to the Garden Hole tis are the way of the Rabbit. Down the rabbit hole to the open world, tis are the way of Rabbit. Down the Rabbit Hole to the Roles tis are the way of Joker. The way of the Joker, is that of lonesome stockbroker.”

 

And down the Rabbit Hole he went…


	7. Melancholic Perception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Zhi fiction, on the [Discontinued] section.

Infant screams silenced across the base, a group of warriors eyed the large figure standing over a crib. The crib was painted with crimson that originated from its center. A warrior held his gun towards glowing eyes heavenly adorned with grey fur; their owner growled lowly, asserting his dominance. He didn’t hesitate throwing the stained crib into the crowd of people while he made a quick escape.

The wolf howled, a slit opened less than ten feet away; standing in a specific angle, it would’ve appeared he disappeared into thin-air.

 

 

Bran threw books off their shelves; an answer had to be somewhere within their journals. Zhi’s actions were out of character, they wouldn’t had abandoned them. Not this way, not without a reason; so what had they done wrong?

“Blank,” he flipped through numerous books, “blank. Are you shitting me? 50 fucking journals and they’re all blank. Cynbel, where are her actual journals?”

“These are their journals,” he calmly stated over the book mount, “

 

Cynbel waited, playing with a withered rose. The lucid garden was almost silver plated, the rose bushes were dull green yet their flowers glistened. They were almost polished specifically for him. Though, they might as well had been; no one knew where this garden was located.

It was neither one this plain nor that one, lying dormant in limbo. It made a haven for them to meet and for Morana to run freely. The small child ran screaming gleefully to Cynbel, she was quick to wrap her arms around him.

“Papa, guess what we did,” she queued.

Cynbel gave her a small peck on the forehead before inquiring, “What did you do?”

“Mama taught me how to write and I saw ghosts! They were tall with masks,” she giggled. “They were black, almost like walking shadows.”

Morana smiled, laying on her father’s shoulders. “When can we come home?”

He laid his head against hers, his throat tightened, “I’m not sure. A little longer, Mora. Then you and Mama can come home.” The little girl stifled herself from crying, she nodded quietly. She looked back waiting for her parent to appear from the violet-blue portal. The next figure to walk out of the portal was a small figured woman.

She smiled unenthusiastically despite the joy she had seeing her partner and child together. Their time together would be shorter than normally, Zhi walked over to greeted them. She seemed tired, bags around her eyes but hidden beneath glasses. Her hair was tassled everywhere and bruises across her arms. Nonetheless, she embraced them; wishing it could last longer than a few moments.

Morana chirped at her mother, who in turn attempted to put her best smile. Just for her daughter and husband Zhi would genuinely act jovial; letting the adopted persona melt away. In limbo, there wasn’t a need to be matte evil. They could act as before, but

 

 

 

Basic chemistry will either have one out of several  reactions; it’ll dissolve into one another, become unstable, or will foam/produce, or, on the off chance, explode. Sentient relationships work, hypothetically, display the same reactions. Either you will bond or estrange, either a group will come together or it will fall unstable. Within itself, there’s never an easy choice to make to sustain equilibrium, but this doesn’t compel others (usually) from not engaging in relationships.

The Luz organization is a potluck of chemicals with few objectives to dictate their actions. Many spend their time collecting intel, but aquire little to no information. Others take missionary work, lab work, or even waste time with mundane domestic work. Their first years were solidified, sterdy, and well-managed under their several administrators.

As years passed, the administrators wavered from equal splits of power to pedestals and groundwork. It caused tension within their walls; though, it remained mainly one-sided unless the ground administrators disagreed with the highers.

Trix worked in his lab, testing irrelevant samples. He viewed his job as meaningless to the ‘cause,’ since they never used the results anyway. Instead they’d go on little intel and rpgs to assault their enemy.

 

Rattling chains stopped in the dense forest syncing with manic laughter. It sounded child-like, but sinister weived through it; a small figure in the trees moved past several operatives. They carried a large bladed weapon spraying crimson across the clearing. It shot back the previously dominant anomaly smiling at its work. Without looking back the small figure carved away at its opponent, splicing them in half with sharpened sand and overgrown thorn vines.

The recessive figure dropped and the smaller one walked over to hold its hand. Again, the child-esque laughter began ringing through the forest. A small book floated towards the smaller figure who tore a page out. A sigil was masked in unsanitary blood transaction; staining the page with both figures’ blood. The laughter ceased after the page was torn. Silence stood for an unknown amount of time before anyone moved.

The other agents dusted themselves off and healed their minor injuries without hesitation. Two, who laid farther than the rest, approached the small figure; Peri and Rebecca almost ran when they saw Trix looming over the corpse. He didn’t hesitate when commanding a thin whip to graze their cheeks, almost warning them. Trix revived the body before turning around. His bright green eyes were replaced with dulled, bleak red ones.

He smiled at Peri and Rebecca, as if buying time for someone to arrive.  Hesitantly, he waved a hand, shoving them several feet back then recoiling when the silver-maned wolf appeared out of the blue carrying a small corpse between its teeth.

“What the fuck did you do,” Peri cried out.

Trix didn’t hesitate, nor did his voice appeared familiar, “What was always expected of me. Someone has to be a villain to make others feel better.”

Before the others could get a word in, Trix with the corpses and wolves disappeared into a spiraling vortex. It was gone as fast as it had appeared, but its blue-purple palette, misshapen form would be engraved into everyone’s memory. They stared out in the distance awestruck, afraid, and confused. Even Trix’s partner, Andy, stared out with a glassy look in his eyes.

 

Trix walked with his wolf whining and nuzzling him. “We can’t go home,” he started and smiled at the small child in his arms, “Remember we said we’d help them stay together. Even if that meant we can’t see them for a while. You’ll see Jax eventually.”

The wolf continued to whine but followed his master regardless. Occasionally he’d coddle the small child that cooed in his master’s arms. The larger, dominant figure from before followed close behind; the man spat at Trix, “So what I am supposed to help you with now?”

“Nothing, you just needed to be restrained. That’s why I took that burden,” he replied, not making eye contact.

“You’re delusional if you think this will work,” he sneered, “Eventually they’ll know what you’re up to and will either cast you out or kill you.”

“I don’t see a point in your argument. This my bed and I shall lay in it, be it my deathbed makes no difference to me.”

The man kept quiet, unsure why his new ‘master’ (and uses that term loosely) would take this burden upon himself. “I cannot see an endgame that will allow you some comfort or future happiness.”

“Perhaps happiness will be brought to others, and that will be sufficient.”

The man huffed, but unwillingly followed Trix

 

 

Morana waited in the closet, she clutched the small journal Zhi gave her. It was her present, a collection of her parent’s writing. A token of rememberance, but for what she hadn’t been told. She stifled her cries of confusion. The small grey wolf pup whined then nuzzled her arm. He licked her hand, an attempt to comfort the confused child.

Downstairs Morana’s parent was waiting paitently. Zhi knew what would come tonight. They had prepared in advance for their departure. Cynbel was given intel to pass on,

They gripped the small locket that hanged around their neck, smiling calmly. Their train of thought was interrupted by Eamon’s sharp comment. “Are they going to show up or this for eternity?”

 

“It wasn’t my intention to be chained to you this long. Hopefully both of us will be given the release of death.”


	8. Horde of Plants and Chemicals (1/?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With their housing destroyed, Ellicott ventures with Cactus to his home; meeting most of his children (of 8) in the process.

Ellicott watched her mentor place a pot of flowers into a suitcase, books minded their way past her head. The books piled almost to the ceiling into a small satchel, about the size of a large flower pot at most. A certain summit needed to be reached before the books were compressed then relinquished to the satchel’s infinite black hole. Then the cycle restarted. Stack. Compress. Relinquish. Repeat. For anyone unfamiliar to magick, it would have been an astonishing sight to behold. Yet this was almost a typical Wednesday for Ellicott.

Cactus had several satchels placed around the home. Each of them never bulked in the slightest, but the journey from their position to the door. That was another story. Fortunately, Cactus had a plan. Or what he called a plan which was place the satchels into a suitcase then hope for the best.

“We’re almost done, I just have to wrap up the catacombs then we’ll book it,” Cactus yelled from the stairs.

“Wrap up the catacombs?” Ellicott queried, dragging her red suitcase across the floor. “How are you going to do that? They’re built into the house, Cactus.”

He smiled then guided his apprentice through their personal labyrinth. The winding and crude halls were dimmed lightly; odd considering their fires burn like an inferno, minus the destruction and burning of course. Cactus stopped, squinted then pulled Ellicott towards the dark. He pointed at the darkness, giddily stretching his hand out. Ellicott was unsure of the object captivating her mentor.

“My finest work, “Cactus started, “Don’t you see the glory of it, Ellicott?”

“All I can see is darkness surrounding us, Cactus” she responded.

“Oh, right. I forgot about the light,” Cactus murmured. With a flick of his wrist, a small ball of fire appeared. He held it towards the end of the tunnel. “Now do you see my finest work?”

Ellicott squinted; the only visible thing was a sprout sticking out of the wall. “Not really. Why is this sprout your finest work?”

Cactus smiled at Ellicott. He built up suspension by moving his hand slowly towards the sprout. The sprout took several tugs before springing forward. Parts of the catacombs rumbled and groaned. Rooms collapsed, their doors folded like paper; the sprout retracted its roots and coiled up. Ellicott and Cactus’ shirts lifted by the quick paced vacuum drawing its ends back. Cactus dropped the sprout, smiling as the catacombs was devoured and packaged into a seed.

He placed it into a velvet pouch then stuck it in his shirt pocket. “Alright, now we can go.”

 

 

Ellicott watched Cactus get off the train; he smiled in a strange and slightly unsettling way. It was heartwarming regardless of the initial impression.  Cactus took out his phone, replied to a text, dragging Ellicott across the platform. He waited for a moment until a cab stopped. Ellicott put in their luggage into the trunk.

 

“So…” Ellicott started, “you have kids.”

Cactus nodded, “Yep, 8 of them.”

“How did you get 8 kids” Ellicott trailed off, “wait, don’t answer that.”

“Too late. I gave birth to 5 of them; I adopted 3 before we had the other 5.” Cactus added, wiggling excitedly in his seat.

Ellicott stared at Cactus, unsure of her mentor’s excitement was attributed to. She poked Cactus before asking the pink elephant question. “You gave birth to 5 of them? I thought you were against having kids because of…you know.”

Cactus patted her shoulder; he gave her a small, distant smile. “Look, it was before my transition…well most of them were. Anyway, it took a while to come to terms with what I felt, and it took longer to tell my partner. He understood. The kids were a bit confused at first, but they got used to it quickly.”

The cab stopped, he waved them off without asking for compensation. Ellicott asked Cactus why the cab stopped by a dirt road, but he was already about 40 yards away. She grabbed her bags then ran after Cactus and asked again. He told her to hurry up and “the house is a bit farther than he’d like to come near. We don’t have the best reputation and would prefer to keep it as such. It keeps solicitors away.”

She understood enough to trudge through the muddy path. Eventually they came up to a house, not large like a mansion but not small either. It looked as if the architect had taken inspiration of a Victorian era house colliding with a cottage. There were snapping plants by the path leading to the door and its windows. Cactus didn’t even make it carrying his bags. He ditched them about 50 feet from the door then rang the doorbell.

“Cactus, don’t you think that would annoy them?” Ellicott asked, watching her mentor obnoxiously ring the doorbell.

“No, someone has to hear it eventually.” Cactus replied.

The door finally sprung open, an average height girl answered the door. She looked to be about 16 and resembled Cactus minus a few features. The girl squinted at them; inspecting them before granting them passage of any kind.

“I’m home!” Cactus smiled, which was unreturned and greeted by a slamming door. He banged on the door for several minutes. “GENESIS, OPEN THE DOOR NOW. I WILL BREAK IT DOWN, AGAIN, IF I HAVE TO.”

A voice matched Cactus’ on the other side, “YOU’RE NOT MY DAD. GO AWAY.”

Cacti cursed under his breathe about his unread messages wasting space on her phone. He was about to run the door down when it opened again. This time a young man, sharing almost no resemblance, opened the door. His voice was softer than the girl’s; even as he scolded her for being rude to visitors.

“We don’t shut the door on people, Genesis. That’s rude and uncalled for,” he paused to apologize to the visitors. Cactus waved at him, waiting for the situation to register. The young man tackle hugged Cactus then screamed, “DAD!”

Cactus ruffled his hair then squirmed loose from his death grip. “I missed you too, Poet.” He got up, only to hug Cactus again. Ellicott looked confused for a moment. She felt a tad awkward witnessing someone cling to their mentor similar to a kitten. Poet looked to be almost Cactus’ age, but she brushed off the thought.

“Who’s that?” Poet inquired, “Is that your apprentice?”

Cactus nodded and escorted Ellicott over. “Poet, Genesis, this is Ellicott. She’s my apprentice, and will be staying here at the house for a while. Just until I can get a new living space for her studies.”

Ellicott greeted the pair, making her way into the living room. She was generally quiet at the time. Poet got her a drink, while Genesis sat across inspecting her father’s underling.

They tried to pick at her brain for some time, but generally got flat answers. Cactus went around the house looking for the others before returning. He put a hand on his children’s shoulders before asking, “Where’s everyone?”

Genesis smiled, “Lambert is out with his boyfriend, and I lost Ingram.”

Cactus stared at her. “You lost him or lost sight of him?”

“It doesn’t really matter. I don’t know where he’s at,” she replied, “Chances are though they took him out to the garden.”

Cactus inhaled, his fingers rested against one another, forming a triangle, “The garden.”

“Yes.”

“Where the deadly plants live.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t go check.”

“No, no I did not.”

 

“…Do I even want to know where Cyra and Sage are at?”

Genesis pointed to her right, bluntly snarking, “They’re creating chemical bombs out of plant matter.”

Without hesitance, Cactus ran towards the general direction and screamed to the highest volume he could muster.  In his absence, Genesis peered into the darkened hall then to Ellicott. She scrunched up her nose, thinking something a tad untasteful. Tucking the thought away, she proceeded with her ‘interrogation.’

“I would play bad cop, good cop with you, but Lambert is out. And I refuse to play bad cop, soft cop, last time we ended up picking grapes out of Dad’s garden,” Genesis  lulled, “that jam wasn’t even good.”

Poet’s face was unscathed while drinking tea. He had Cactus’ peculiar, almost unnatural serenity. “Right, because your feet stunk like your attitude.”

As Genesis rallied her inner boxer, the plant parent returned…at the same volume he had left with. “I GOT THEM. I GOT ALL OF THEM. He was in garden, just so you know, do not let him go in there again. BUT I GOT THEM ALL, EVEN THE BONUSES.”

He sat down two pairs of five and eight year olds. “Ellicott, meet the rest of the munchkins.” Cactus pointed to the ebony haired boy and blonde girl, “This is Cyra and Sage. Sage isn’t allowed near your books or plants. Ever. I will disown both of you if he gets near them. Cyra can help you with some plants, in terms of taming them.”

“How old are they??”

“Cyra is 8 and Sage is 9. They’re cute, evil, but cute.”

 Genesis called from her seat, “Dad.”

“And these two are Nour and Kai. They’re Lambert and Genesis’ kids…kittens…let’s stick with kids. They’re about 5 years old now,” he motioned to the smaller red and black haired girls. “They’re very articulated.”

Kai huffed, her black braids frizzed, “I can introduce myself, grandpa! I don’t need everyone introducing me!”

He raised hands in defeat. “Okay. Okay.”

The black-haired girl looked over at Ellicott, smiling while dragging helpless Nour along. “I’m Kai! And this is Nour!” She made her redheaded companion stand with little resistance. “Hi,” was the only thing she spoke before sitting on her mother’s lap.

"Dad,” Genesis cooed.

“What?”

“You’re missing 3 kids.”

“I am not and you were missing a niece, a daughter, a sister, and two brothers,”


	9. Persephone and Hades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Discontinued]

It may have been from a distance, yet there was a spark that Zeus’ lightning couldn’t match. He watched from a distance as Demeter was watching her daughter. She was pale, with fiery red hair to match her personality and a blue eye that was brighter than the Sun in his eyes. At the time, she was only a quarter of his age, but even she felt a force calling her. Persephone sat in the meadow, as she did every day. An assortment of flowers lay before her. Pinks, blues, reds….all dull in the young goddess’ eyes. “There does not seem to be anything but the flowers to grow. Mother keeps me like a pet more than an offspring.”  

She gave a sigh to her dismay of colourful array. The beauty within nature had long faded to her; it was what grew in the dark that caught her eye. When the moon was up by Selene’s will, Persephone would witness lightshows of the light bugs and fluorescent mushrooms, that her mother always said to stay clear of. Even the clouds of the night were more life-like than those of the day. Their shapes were odd in a funny way to her. All of it amazed the youth; her fascination was not within the meadows or valleys. It lied within the caverns and tunnels that form in Mother Gaia.   

 

He was tall, lanky in some ways with white hair and chartreuse eyes; no shorter than 6’7” and a demeanor that only the Lord of the Underworld could possess.  Though cautious of Demeter, he approached her calmly.  The wind itself seemed to push the man towards the young girl. Hurry. She will return soon, Uncle.  Pacing himself, with a simple ‘hello’ and a forced smile, the young female returned with a warming smile. “Hello. Are you the man that watches from the forest there?” She said while pointing towards the wooded area. Hades froze for a moment, and then nodded.  Persephone flashed a simple grin asking him to sit with her. “You could have just spoken to me without the hiding. Or am I that frightful? I should hope not.”

“On the contrary, you’re as beautiful as the flowers you grow.” It took a moment to realize what had been said. She blushed like a rose in full bloom, while he tried to make for a quick escape.  As swift as the wind blowing, the youth grabbed the man’s wrist. “Please come see me again.” Hades debated it, gave a nod of his head then disappeared in the shadows of the forest. Persephone watched from a distance, smiling and holding a flower that she calls a lily.

 

 

“It’s been several months, Hades. Why have you not taken me to see your home?  Or have stayed long enough to meet my mother?” she pestered the man. He gave a long sigh. Staring into her eye (for she only had one), it wrenched his intestines to tell her, “I am married,” then “Your mother would have my head if she saw me with you.” The stinging handprint of death never came; there was only silence and a smiling Persephone. “Do you really take me for a fool, Hades? I am aware of the predicament we are in. Your wife loathes me and my mother loathes you because of what she believes you are. To which I do not believe the myths, but believe the man before me.”


	10. Carne Vale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old, incomplete Homestuck-related work.

“The meek bird finally fell to the might of the Lord. You should’ve quit when you had the chance, instead you fought a fruitless battle that only caused the destruction of your universe and the lives of your comrades.”

The muse looked at the sword embedded within her chest. She reached for the handle before a swift kick threw her further to the edge of the platform above the lava pits. A green laughing monstrosity ripped the sword; he looked at her with a fire to destroy every last bit of hope within her.  “How the Muse of Hope has fallen, look at you now, on the verge of death. Of giving up once again; you are nothing more than a weak representation of your aspect.  A mutant blood of the spectrum should have the fate of her predecessors before her.”

Holding her by her arms, the Lord laughed as he waved her over the pit of lava.  The muse stared down at the pit, ‘You shouldn’t die this way. None of us should’ve.’ ‘I hope you know how triggering this is to view. How can any of us acquire peace if the last of us will die in the same manner as we did?’ ‘GET YOUR FUCKING ASS UP AND KICK HIS ASS. WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO DIE LIKE US! WE DIDN’T FUCK UP….I DID BUT THEY DIDN’T, AND NEITHER DID YOU. GET YOUR FUCKING ASS UP.’

The muse looked up at the Lord and smiled. Witnessing his fury build as she spent her last few moments of hope wither away, because of her blood boiling to extreme heats of her ancestors.  She peered up to the Cheshire grinned Lord, her face in disgust as she tried to open her mouth to speak. The Lord cut her off by screaming as he lifted her for the face-to-face confrontation, “Say hello to your ancestors for me. Death is only inches from your reach.”

She screeched at the cherub like a screech owl, “I am death.” A ball of light engulfed the muse, pushing the Lord back to the other side of the platform. The ball turned blood red, then slowly began to crack open while the muse’s comrades fell back out of the area. Within the ball, the muse was regenerating. Her cracked ribs, bruises and even her torn wings began to regenerate swiftly. She screeched as the bones from her fallen wings grew back and sprouted red feathers. Within a minute’s time, the ball exploded outward. The muse’s aspect had changed; the hope she had of defeating her enemy had fallen into a deep despair in her heart.

Though her hope was gone, her blood was boiling to a breaking point. She felt the strong anger sensation passed down from her ancestor’s final moments and the processor just before her.  The Lord looked on as the muse landed on the platform with her head bowed. His face dropped when he witnessed her eyes glaring holes into his soul. Her eyes glowed brightly with the candy red mutation colour passed down to her.  The muse bellowed a loud screech and watched calmly as her opponent reached for his rifle.

He began to shoot in her direction carelessly and aimlessly. She did not flinch, as she walked towards the Lord of Time and allowing herself to be shot multiple times.  The Lord bellowed then attempted to charge her down; she gripped onto his arms and held him in a standstill. The muse


	11. "I have a plan." "Is it a good plan?" "I have a plan." prompt

“Cam, you can’t expect us to turn on our heels to hear your spasmodic plans,” Carlos flatly stated. He turned around to converse with Jason and Elizabeth; all the while, Cam stood in the background brooding. They hissed at the group huddle, “I have a plan.”

Jason and Elizabeth looked over then sighed, “Alright. What is it?” Carlos groaned then gave the same ‘this better not be a half-baked plan’ speech as always before Camelot spoke. Cam shrugged him off, inhaled to calm their nerves then smiled. “Alright, they follow motion and noise, right? Well, if we can play this right then you three can run off to far left, around the horde and I’ll set off the vine bombs. It’ll be loud enough to catch their attention. Just make it to the other side.”

The group stared at Camelot…just to ensure how serious they were about the proposition. Fire was more than glistening in their eyes and also their hair. It swatted out the fire without a panic, still glaring at them until a satisfying “Fine” rang echoes through their ears. Immediately, their atmosphere changed from dead weight sitting over everyone to a light-hearted, excited one. Cam tackled hugged all three of their teammates. Leaving them behind, they popped out four small beads from their pocket.

Cam dropped a bead in intervals, their footsteps slamming against the broken pavement. Hordes of zombies staggered towards the sound waves. They tumbled over one another, dropping body parts along the way. All the while, Cam sat patiently between two of the beads. From the corner of their eyes, there was someone waving at them. A bit angrily, but he was waving so they waved back.

 

What the fuck are you doing? Jason mouthed.

“JUST GIVE ME A MOMENT, I’M WAITING FOR THE RIGHT MOMENT,” Cam screamed back, much to Jason’s distain.

He stared, frightened for Cam’s life while they waved and smiled. Jason held onto the small pistol with a deadly grip staring into the distance. Carlos and Elizabeth had to restrain him from running into the horde and pulling Cam out. Literally if God could have helped him in anyway, it would have been anything other than saving Camelot from being eaten.

And then,

 

the beads finally exploded with a small figure sent flying at least 50 feet in the air, give or take a few. Cam screamed in delight, while the others made their way out of the area.

“And this is why we don’t let Cam make the plans,” Carlos stressed, watching his sister being consumed by the earth; in the literal sense of the phrase.

While Cam descended from the freefall, a spell was casted creating a crater in the earth. They dived in and allowed the earth to sew up its newly developed wound. Jason looked around with Elizabeth to see if Cam was surfacing soon, but much to their agony. They weren’t, the earth had swallowed up Cam again.

“We can’t wait. If she surfaces then she surfaces, if not then she’ll find her way to us as usual,” Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Carlos and Elizabeth nodded, picked up what little gear they had then walked off. Jason glanced around once more, but there was no sign of the earth returning them soon. He caught up to the pair, who were talking amongst themselves.  He joined their conversation, keeping a matching pace to theirs until he felt a tug. Jason turned around, but there wasn’t anything in immediate view. He looked down, and yet again didn’t see anything.

The group kept walking on. They decided to write it off as a root that snagged his foot.

Yet that wasn’t the only root that happened to snag his foot. There was at least 17 others deciding to trip a random human they had no malice against. Around the 19th try, Jason stopped and stared down at it. He cursed under his breathe, until he saw a hand wrap around his ankle. It pulled him downwards. He didn’t flinch; just laughed at it.

“Cam, this is the worst prank you’ve pulled,”

Cam pulled themself out of the ground, coughing out dust and dirt. “I tried at least.”


End file.
